HOW DID YOU TRICK YOUR ENTIRE SCHOOL?

  PART 2 👇

Exploded with laughter. Teachers laughed, too.

Nobody questioned it. Everyone assumed the district office had sent it.

That afternoon, the clip spread all over social media.

People called it the funniest school announcement ever.

So, naturally,

I made another. The next week,

the screens turned on again.

Reminder. Today's cafeteria cookies contain extra chocolate.

Students sprinted toward lunch when the bell rang.

The cafeteria sold out in eight minutes.

Except there had never been extra cookies.

Now everyone wanted to know who was making these announcements.

Teachers blamed the district.

The district blamed the school.

The school blamed the media company.

Meanwhile, I sat quietly in chemistry,

trying not to laugh. And I got ambitious.

Homecoming week was approaching,

so I created one final announcement.

This one looked even more official.

At exactly 8:45 Friday morning,

every screen in the building switched on.

The principal appeared. Or at least a perfectly edited recording of him.

Good morning, everyone.

I'm happy to announce that

because as of your outstanding behaviour this semester,

the last two class periods today have been cancelled.

The building erupted. Students cheered.

Teachers looked confused. Some actually started packing up.

Before anyone could leave,

the video continued. Just kidding.

Now get back to class. After school.

Grown so loudly you could hear it from outside.

Even teachers laughed. Within minutes,

the principal was marching through the hallways,

asking one question. Who keeps doing this?

An emergency meeting was called.

Passwords were changed. The entire media system was Locked down.

The mystery was finally over.

Or so everyone thought. Three months later,

graduation arrived. As seniors lined up backstage,

the principal walked over to me.

He smiled. You know I always suspect.

Did you? My heart nearly stopped.

He continued. I could never prove it.

I froze. Then he handed me a small envelope.

Inside was my recommendation letter for college.

Across the bottom, he'd written one sentence by hand.

Any student capable of making an entire high school

believe even AI was watching them

belongs in computer engineering.

I stared at him. You knew?

He grinned. I figured it out after the fake cookie announcement.

So why didn't you say anything?

He laughed. Because for three weeks,

student behaviour improved more than it had all year.

Then he leaned closer and whispered,

next time, I change the administrator password after you're done.

He winked, walked away.

And to this day, everyone from my graduating class

still thinks our school actually tested an AI attendance system.